The Tales of Sol 72B By Joe at3unit3@yahoo.com
This is a fictional story it is not intended to imply that any members of the Backstreet Boys, Nsync or 98 Degrees are gay, or any of the other celebrities mentioned are homosexuals. If you are not old enough to read these stories do yourself a favor don't get caught. The same goes for those people whose countries have these sites made illegal. And for everyone else enjoy
Captain Planet and related characters was created by R.E Turner and copyright by AOL Time Warner Company and Trademark by TBS Productions
Babylon 5 and all related characters and props were created by Michael Straczynski and copyright by Warner Bros.
Star Trek and all related characters created by Gene Roddenberry. Copyright Paramount
Transformers and all related characters, and props are trademarked by Hasbro inc. Copyright Rhino Home Videos and AOL Time Warner Entertainment CO
He-Man, She-Ra, related characters, and props are trademarked by Filmation 1980's
Buffy, the Vampire Slayer, Angel and all related characters created by Joss Whedon. Copyright 20th Century Fox.
Batman, and all related characters created by Bob Kane. Copyright DC Comics and Warner Bros.
X-MEN, and all related characters created by Stan Lee. Copyright Marvel Comics and 20th Century Fox.
To those who've been reading Tales of Sol. I want you to know that while there is sex in this story. That is not is sole purpose and yes I do hope the sex sense makes you all hard and gets you off.
Sol is an adaption from my childhood favorite show Captain Planet and the Planeteers, The cartoon showed us that the world can be a better place if we took a few moments to care for it.
Tales of Sol is meant to express hope.
It is also shows how music can have an impact in our lives. While I don't know if my favorite bands 98 Degrees, Backstreet Boys or Nsync have ever read this. They saw me through some of the hardest moments of my life and offered in their own way hope. To them I say thank you.
I dedicate the Tales of Sol to all of my brothers and sisters of the US armed service past, present, and future.
I like to thank my friends who I had the privilege showing these chapters with. They helped with editing and inspiration,
John Rivera, Albert-Russ Alan Rivera-Odum, Derbe.D. Hunte Yvette Ortiz Samuel Diaz Jr for all their help in Making The Tales of Sol an enjoyable story to write.
And I have a few other names starting with the beginner of this universe.
James the author of Tales of a Real Dark Knight. I still hope to reconnect with you dear friend and all the rest of this series.
Blake the author of Tales of a New Phoenix
Jeremi author of the Tales of Young Mutants
I am adding a few more remarks. I have entered into the 21 century AI editing, I have been using various AI programs to help with grammar checks, clarity, and improvements to my story.
This story was edited with the help of GPT Workspace, Grammarly, Microsoft Copilot, and Quillbot AI software.
AI Use Disclosure: I used GPT Workspace to generate some text for my story, Grammarly to check my grammar and spelling, Microsoft Copilot to write some code snippets, and Quillbot to paraphrase some sentences. I verified the accuracy and originality of the AI-generated content and cited the sources that I used for reference.
References:
GPT Workspace. (2024, January 9). Version 1.0. [AI tool]. GPT Workspace Inc. https://gptworkspace.com/
Grammarly. (2024, January 9). Version 5.6. [AI tool]. Grammarly Inc. https://www.grammarly.com/
Microsoft Copilot. (2024, January 9). Version 2.3. [AI tool]. Microsoft Corporation. https://copilot.github.com/
Quillbot. (2024, January 9). Version 4.2. [AI tool]. Quillbot Inc. https://quillbot.com/
The Tales of Sol 72B
Ahola Continued
The last time I was in Hawaii, I was onboard the Aircraft Carrier USS Carol Vinson and the plane touched down, marking the end of our flight. We finally arrived in Hilo, Hawaii, and the sun was just setting. We were now six hours behind Philadelphia, something I had to constantly remind myself of. Naturally, my body continued to operate on Philadelphia time.
The rush of memories from my previous visit washed over me as we disembarked. The warmth and humidity of Hilo embraced us immediately; you could feel it in the jetway; the distinct climate was a stark contrast to the cooler air back home.
Walking down the jetway, I could see the doors leading to the terminal. It was through those doors, enhancing my vision, that I saw a massive panoramic window on the south side of the terminal, offering an amazing view of the island as the sun was nearing its final descent. Obviously, I didn't have time to gawk. There were people behind me who would like to see Hawaii. So I had to return my eyes to what was before me so we could exit the plane.
Once we got to the gate, I got an unobtrusive view of the large window and the stunning vista on the other side. The grand panoramic window on the southern wall showcased the majestic Hawaiian landscape. The setting sun cast a breathtaking orange glow over the island, and I was struck by its beauty. Such amplified perception reminded me of the island's resilience from the time of Count Mullack, the scars of the past now healed by the nurturing grace of nature. This simple display was all the proof I needed that the Earth was going to be okay. Count Mullack had failed spectacularly. But I still wanted to double-check all those reports. But if Hawaii was any indication, what I am about to read will only lift my spirits higher.
Standing before the window, a soft exhalation escaped me: "By the Mother's Hand." The phrase was both an acknowledgment of Earth's regenerative power and a testament to the deeper connection I felt to the world around me.
Yet amid the scenic tranquility, a subtle undercurrent tugged at my senses--the lingering presence of those who remained bound to the realms beneath the waves. It was a reminder that even in paradise, vestiges of sorrow and unfinished stories still persisted, waiting for resolution.
I felt some one pushing me the voice said, "Come on, Mike, we need to get our stuff," shaken out of my reverie. It was Nick pushing me toward baggage claim; my friend was urging me to snap out of my reverie and focus on the more immediate tasks at hand.
Led by Nick's insistence, I continued down the terminal with the group; my mind, however, was swirling with thoughts. Dave had been adamant that accompanying the Backstreet Boys to Hawaii was a good idea, and as we made our way to the baggage claim, I pondered his reasoning and my own decision.
After the tumultuous events involving Count Mullack and the subsequent confrontation with animal poachers, I had been tempted to stay within the bounds of my protectorate, to remain in the comfort of my routines and responsibilities. Yet the invitation to visit Hawaii stirred something within me; it wasn't just any destination--it was a place close to my heart, one that evoked a sense of passion and fondness I could not easily dismiss.
The allure of the island was undeniable, and at that moment, traveling down the familiar trudge of the airport, the prospect of embracing the change felt right. This trip was a chance to reconnect with a beloved locale, to unwind, and to possibly reconcile parts of my past. With the push from my friends and the tug of my own desires, I accepted the journey, recognizing that sometimes even protectors need a reprieve. Hawaii awaited, and with it, a renewed sense of adventure and the quiet hope of tranquility.
As the conveyor belt churned out our bags at baggage claim, Kevin efficiently located his luggage first. I followed suit, my bag appearing soon after, and AJ wasn't far behind in collecting his. Just as Nick reached out for his bag, a familiar sensation resonated through me, and the sound of a sonar contact echoed in my ears--a Ping from the Earth.
Since the resurgence of my power, the Pings have come back to me, but now, enhanced by Sol's influence, they arrived with a clarity unprecedented in my experience. I knew, however, that interpreting these Pings still required sharp concentration.
Brian, attuned to the subtle shifts in my expression and posture, touched my arm. "What's up?" he asked gently.
"The Earth--she just Pinged me," I informed him, my eyes scanning our surroundings, searching for the unseen.
Kevin weighed in with concern, "Is it something we should worry about?"
I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of responsibility. "I don't think so. Just... stay alert," I said, just loud enough for our group to hear.
"Alright, we're on it," Kevin responded, a hint of unease threading his voice.
And then there was Brian--always vigilant--claiming his luggage as Howie joined us, completing our group. As we gathered, ready to leave, another Ping caught my attention; this one carried on the current of the breeze, whispering a cautionary tale to only those who knew how to listen.
"Mike?" Brian's voice was laced with a mix of curiosity and worry as he watched my gaze dart around, trying to trace the source.
A moment passed as I stood silent, honing in on the natural communiqué, unraveling the message borne on the wind.
As we emerged from the terminal into the Hawaiian night, we were greeted by an expanse of darkness that stretched infinitely across the waters of the Pacific Ocean. Above, the star-studded sky was a celestial canopy, with the moon only beginning its ascent.
Nick, ever the observant one, caught something in the distance and grabbed my arm to point it out. Squinting into the darkness, what we saw sent a collective shiver through the group. Under the veil of the night sky, two oddly massive-shaped silhouettes an oil tanker and a cruise ship, sat stationary against the vast canvas of the sea--victims of a maritime collision.
With focused vision, I pieced together the scene: the tanker, wounded with a sizeable gash on its port side, was bleeding crude oil into the ocean. The cruise liner's prow was ominously entrenched in the side of the tanker. Despite their lights cutting through the night, the reality of the spill and the potential sinking of these ships weighed heavily on us.
As Brian realized the gravity of the situation, he turned to me. "Go," he urged.
"Are you certain?" I hesitated momentarily, not wanting to leap into action without his full support.
"This is your calling," he affirmed with a conviction that left no room for doubt.
With those words, I sprinted towards the shore, and as the sea came into view, I called upon the power that bonded me to the Earth. "This is not in Guardian's league, but it is fine; I know who to call," I understood instinctively. Mustering a strength grounded in our cause, I invoked, "Let the Powers Combine! My friend, this is first Hawaiian rescue."
The quintessence of Earth's vitality coursed around me, forcing me to spin clockwise, setting the transformation in motion and lifting me off my feet and into the air. My form melded with the elements to bring forth Sol once more.
"By the Powers Combined, I am Sol!" I declared in my voice a clarion call to action as I took flight. Poised to engage with the might of the elements at my command, we set forth to mitigate the disaster at sea. Sol was ready. The Guardian, a symbol of protection, was wherever he needed to be, even in the heart of paradise.
From a vantage point near the airport, Brian and the others watched for the first time as I transformed into Sol.
"I don't think I will ever get tired of watching him do that!" AJ commented, his voice filled with admiration as Sol soared away, a figure of strength and hope against the night sky.
As our cab rolled up for the ride to the hotel, the driver caught a glimpse of the spectacle and couldn't help but ask, pointing towards the dwindling figure of Sol, "Who is that guy?"
With a grin spreading across his face, Nick couldn't resist the moment and broke out into an impromptu serenade, singing, "Sol, he is our hero, going to take pollution down to zero."
Howie, noting the cab driver's bewildered reaction, chimed in gently, "That's Sol--our planet's greatest champion. Right now, he's off to protect your beautiful Hawaiian shores from that accident at sea."
The group settled into the cab, content with the knowledge that their friend was venturing forth to prevent an environmental catastrophe. As they drove away, they carried with them a sense of pride, not just in me but in the knowledge that when duty calls, there are those among us ready to answer, no matter the cost.
"Can he really do that?" exclaimed the cabbie, a mix of wonder and skepticism in his voice as he tried to wrap his mind around the scene unfolding before him.
Brian saw to the careful loading of my bags alongside the others before they all climbed into the taxi, ready to head to the hotel. Kevin, never one to miss a moment of clarity, responded with confidence, "Sol wields the powers of Earth itself; he's more than capable of saving your island."
The driver let out a low whistle, a sign of impressed acknowledgment, before shifting the van into drive and steering the Backstreet Boys toward their lodging.
Meanwhile, as Sol, I surged through the sky toward the site of the maritime disaster. The familiar scent of sea salt filled the air, and the rhythmic crashing of waves was the soundtrack to my urgent flight. The night cloaked the waters below, but the celestial array above was a dazzling spectacle of cosmic brilliance, with the Milky Way along with each star a puncture in the veil of darkness.
Ascending to the crisis, the twin beacons of the stricken vessels grew rapidly in my vision. They were coming at me fast, or I should say I was coming at them fast as they remained motionless. Their stationary lights are a stark contrast to the dynamic rush of the ocean around them. Voices carried over the water--the frantic cries of the passengers aboard the cruise ship and the scattered shouts of officers attempting to maintain order over the chaotic discord.
It was upon me now, the moment to act, to draw upon Earth's gifts and avert the tragedy that threatened--not just the environment, but countless lives teetering on the brink. With the breadth of the ocean beneath and the canopy of stars above, I closed in on the helpless ships,
Drawing closer to the stricken vessels, what was once a blur of light started to crystallize into distinct sections of the two behemoths at sea--a familiar view for one who had once called the decks of the USS Carl Vinson home. On the open ocean, the cruise liner, with its exterior illumination, only hinted at the ship's outline against the dark backdrop. The tanker, less lit, verged on indistinguishable, save for the reflection of its own lights in the sheen of spilled oil.
To a mere human, the approach at a velocity nearing Mach 1 across the black expanse would have been overwhelming, if not physically impossible. That was the life before Captain Planet's soul intertwined with my own before my senses took on a superhuman dimension. The cloak of night was no barrier to my enhanced vision, which now perceived every harrowing detail with an unnerving precision.
What I saw made me wish I had normal human vision. What unfolded before me was an unwelcome tableau: the cruise liner and the oil tanker wedged together eerily into a V formation. The cruise ship's prow was embedded deep within the tanker's port side, and it did nothing to stem the flow of oil that surged from the tank's gaping wound. Shadows danced across the slick mess, grim evidence of the night's catastrophe.
Maneuvering into a hover, about 20 feet from the troubled seafarers, I was in full view of the frantic deployment of lifeboats from both vessels. "Hang tight, folks. I'm here to help with this sticky situation," I announced to both crews, my voice unwavering amidst the chaos.
With a clear plan of action in place, my first priority was to disentangle the cruise ship from the oil tanker. I soared toward the liner, targeting the smokestack as my fulcrum to apply the necessary force. As I exerted my full strength against the vessel's structure, metallic groans and shrieks emanated from the joining points, the very hulls bemoaning the violent embrace.
The protest of twisted metal was almost deafening; I couldn't help but quip amidst the exertion, "Boy, this luxury liner must have been really low on gas if it needed a direct fill-up," With a final, concerted push, the cruise ship began to yield, inching backward until it was free from the tanker's wounded side. With the cruise ship no longer there was nothing to prevent the remaining oil from spilling into the ocean. I will deal with that once I was sure the people were safe.
Releasing my hold on the smokestack, I surveyed the cruise ship now floating free of the tanker, its bow was marred by scrapes and covered with oil, but substantially intact.
Without pausing, I turned my focus to the cluster of lifeboats scattered about in the water. With swift and precise movements, I collected each one and deposited them safely back onto the cruise ship, and did a quick search for anyone floating in the ocean, ensuring all passengers had a secure place aboard.
As I surveyed my handiwork, I announced to those watching, "The job's not done yet--this vessel is heading back to shore." With determination coursing through me, I prepared to guide the ship and its passengers back to the safety of land, the gravity of my role as Sol never more palpable. The rescue was underway, and I was at its helm.
Submerging into the cool depths, I positioned myself beneath the colossal structure of the cruise ship's hull. With an impassioned exertion and a muttered "Shit..." I acknowledged the sheer magnitude of my task. If I, in my current form, could elevate a 40,000-ton vessel packed with its human cargo and assorted freight, my strength was indeed beyond what I had deemed possible.
"To think, this might've been a struggle once," I whispered to no one but the ocean, the truth settling in. As Mike Pennock, even the rigorous training with the X-Men had only gauged the extent of what my pre-Sol capabilities could bear--such a feat would have once drawn every ounce of my strength. But now, as Sol, to hoist the entire ship with mere fingertips was a testament to a profound escalation in power, a remarkable ease where there once was an effort.
With a heave, I lifted the ship out of the ocean, water cascading off its hull, preparing to deliver it skywards. To the amazement of the crew and onlookers, the entire vessel took flight as I carried it aloft, heading towards the safety of the harbor. Upon reaching the designated dock, I gently set the ship down, water enveloping its frame once more as it settled back to buoyancy.
The crew acted swiftly, casting lines to the pier where dockhands were ready to moor the damaged tourist-laden colossus. Rescue services converged upon the scene, tending to the injured, their efficiency a dance of organized chaos.
Now that the cruise ship was secured and being attended to, my gaze as I flew back out to sea turned back to the ocean where another critical situation demanded my attention. The wounded oil tanker was now an immediate concern --its looming disaster and the millions of gallons of oozing oil bleeding into the sea. The danger posed to the coastline and marine life by the spill could not be overstated. Yet, my confidence remained unwavering. "I can handle this in a cinch Piece of cake," I affirmed, plunging into the ocean's depths toward the tanker's wounded belly.
With focused strength, I grappled the torn edges of the hull plate and like a zipper I drew them up by cinching the steel plates back together, sealing the breach and halting the destructive flow of oil.
Once the breach was sealed, I floated back up to survey the work ahead. The oil was contained, a small victory as I landed atop the tanker. The night sky was still a dazzling display of stars but the waters still had a darkness accentuated by the ominous sheen of the slick spreading over the water's surface--an unnatural stain that marred the ocean's beauty.
I approached the colossal hold doors of the tanker absent any hesitation. With ease, I flung open the doors to reveal an emptied bay. "This will do," I decided, refocusing on the slick. "All that remains is a little vacuuming and I can call it a night," I remarked
Rising into the air, I soared over the compromised waters, intent on corralling the oil. "Let's whirl this mess into submission," I declared, spinning to create a force that would round up the spill. A controlled vortex formed, hovering above the slick, ready to follow my direction.
With precision, I maneuvered the funnel top over the gaping bay. Like a colossal vacuum, it siphoned the oil from the sea's surface, channeling it all safely back into the tank. I watched until the very last drop had been reclaimed, then securely closed the hatch.
When my work was completed, the full moon in front of the Milky Way took center stage, its serene glow a soft contrast to the recent calamity. In the distance, the bright lights of approaching rescue ships signaled the arrival of further assistance. "My job here is done. It's time for Mike to enjoy a bit of downtime," I thought.
"The Power is Yours," Sol proclaimed, tracing a circle above the deck before dissolving into luminance, leaving Earth in the trusted care of its human stewards.
To be continued
And this is where I end this chapter. Hawaii is going to be more than just a fun and excitement of tropical paradise. Guardian is going to find out that there is no such thing as a day off when it comes to protecting the Backstreet Boys and the Planet.
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I also recommend the following stories it was because of them I got into writing in the first place.
"Tales of a Real Dark Knight" by authorjames
"Marvel Knights" also by authorjames
"Tales of the New Phoenix" by Blake
"Tales of a Superhero Band" by Leo
"Tales of a Young Mutant" by Jeremi
"Tales of a Thunder God" by Tony Justiss